Breaking Dawn
by Briganna
Summary: Edward suddenly finds himself dead. He remembers nothing of his life, only his name. But he is tired of not beeing seen. So he decides to posses the body of Devin Jones. The story goes through teenage drama, abuse and finding yourself through others.


Breaking Dawn

One.

Death is a strange thing. Not everyone remembers their death or even the Passing. I, on the other hand, had the misfortune to. I remembered my attackers, the trip to the hospital, the coroner hacking me up and my burial. What I can't remember is my life. And who this beautiful girl in my head is.

It was late October, and I had decided to go on a long walk through the forest on the path that wound through its core. I put on my long sleeve, white shirt and my plain black coat. I skipped the scarf and instead grabbed my gloves that had the fingers cut out. I slipped into my clunky DMs and headed out.

I do not remember the walk through my small town or any of the events that led up to my murder.

I do remember the pain. I am not sure if I was either shot or stabbed, but a fiery pain burned through the top of my torso and the gang of boys around my age took off running. I fell onto my back, my eyes wide and staring up at the trees. The pain expanded like a dark shadow, climbing over me like a spider until I was engulfed in its woe of pain. I must have been paralyzed with pain then for I could not move.

Soon the pain ebbed. Slowly at first and then all together it vanished. The cool breeze that kissed my skin felt oddly colder, the rich earthy smell of the dirt under me was stronger, more prudent. I saw the stem of a dry leave above me split before the red leave spiraled down slowly towards me, landing on my chest lightly. I tried to move but found that I was cemented. My limbs staid where they were but it felt as if they were somehow moving.

It felt like taking the same ends of a magnet and trying to put them closer together. It felt like this when my phantom limb passed through my arms or my legs. Soon night fell and I still could not move could not blink. I pushed and shoved against the barricades, trying to push out of my body.

I felt exhausted when a larger woman came strolling by in a workout outfit and found me. At first she looked startled and confused. She called out to me and I heard her. I tried to answer her or at least flick my eyes towards her, but I staid. Her face went very pale then, her mouth fell open and her plump hand cupped her mouth.

This is called your Finding. The mark that declares that you are absolutely and completely dead. One person has to give you the Look during your Finding or you stay stiff. As soon as her mouth dropped, my eyes turned towards her. It was not the eyes of my human form, but of my spirit. I could see the town behind her, the morning sky and the street lamps. I watched as she fuddled for her cell phone and called the police.

Soon a team of crime scene investigators showed up and tapped off the area. I watched in horror as they worked. Could I really be dead? How could they not see me watching them? The memory of my heart beat against my ribs, my eyes blurring in the flashes of camera. Soon I was carefully picked up and slid into a black body bag. The outer side of a body bag may seem harmless, but the inside is torture enough to drive a ghost insane.

I was drove to the hospital were they rolled me in on a stretcher. The tiled ceiling rolled past me, blocks of lights appearing. The overly sterile smell burned my nose and lingered in the back of my throat. I was taken to the coroner in the back in a room full of metal tables, cabinets and cutting tools. I looked away from the cabinets knowing that I would soon join them.

I was slid out onto the table like a stack of discarded mail before the man went to work. He was older, balding and had a white beard. He smelt faintly of tobacco and mint. He worked easily, respectful to my body. He spoke to me as if I was there. Saying excuse me when he reached over me or sorry if my nerves twitched.

He cut my torso open from my chest towards my pelvis. It was such an odd feeling. The knife cutting painlessly through my skin. Like worn leather being cut with a spoon. He opened the flaps and cool air swirled into my exposed innards. He pushed a button on a recorder next to him and spoke in a murmured voice. I found out that I had been shot three multiple times. Two in the stomach and one in the ribs.

He used a long, neon pink pole to push into my wounds. It felt weird but I could not move. He checked under my finger nails, my palms, knuckles and knees for defensive wounds. I was surprised to find that I had actually tried to fight off the gang. The round light above me burned my eyes and I had to look away with no eyes. Another man came in and they conversed on his observations relating to my death.

More pictures were taken of my nude body before I was put onto a thin table and pushed into one of the metal file cabinets.

I began to panic as the heavy door was shut and the handle was latched. I could feel the other unnamed bodies around me, the cool of the metal and the silence all around. I pushed and pushed against the thick forces that kept my phantom limbs inside of my human form. I tried for hours, pushing and pushing until I couldn't take it any longer. I lay still in my space, thinking back.

Black blanks covered my mind. I couldn't remember if I had parents or siblings. I couldn't remember where I lived, what my last name was or who I had been. All I could remember was my first name. Edward. My name was Edward and I was dead. I groped around the dark spaces that were my memories. But all I found was cold, bleak space.

What happens to me now? I wondered. Was I going to heaven or hell? Would I be accepted in either? I could not remember if I had been a religious person, but I felt a devoid blocking me. Was my father religious? My mother? The more I thought of their title, I began to wonder who they were.

Was my father strong and successful? Was my mother beautiful, wise and patient? Did I have a brother or a sister? Would they miss me? Did they know? Or were they hard, gray and resentful? No. They couldn't be, I didn't believe it down inside.

Days passed while I was hoarded into that damn tin. I could smell the bitter-sweet smell of decay all around me, the silent groans of fellow ghosts trying to break free of their rotting bodies. I tried to speak with them once, but I could not move my mouth. Finally on the fifth day, my door was opened and I was rolled out.

The sharp white lights blinded me momentarily. I expected to see my mother or my father, but instead I saw a police officer. He was wearing a black uniform, his belt full of equipment. His skin was a deep ebony color with a thick mustache. The coroner looked exhausted though I saw them upside down. The police grimaced, saying he wished that "they didn't keep their eyes open". And the coroner chuckled saying, "They're the ones that never stop seeing." The police held up a photo and nodded.

I was taken off the tray and set into another body bag and shipped off to another town. I stared at the black body bag with resentment for a few hours until I was unzipped. A woman looked down at me with sad eyes as she shook her head muttering something about good looking and too young.

There she and a team of others, lifted me out, dressed me and put me in a coffin. As soon as my head touched the pillow I had the sensation of being swept under a huge wave. I closed my unseen eyes until it subsided. It wasn't a nice coffin by far. It looked decades old, the kind you would expect a vampire to be put into.

The wood was darker than the police man's skin and the cushions were a maroon, wine color. The team muttered a prayer of peace before making the sign of the cross above me. Then the women kissed my cheek, the feeling felt disconnected. Like when you go to the dentist and they give your lip a shot, and everything feels fake. She crossed my hands over my ribs and closed my eyes, though the eyes of my soul could still see.

The lid was shut and I was shipped off again.

The next time my coffin was opened, my skin was turning a slight green shade to the pale that I did not know was from death alone or my natural tone. I was in the middle of a cemetery, trees looming everywhere. A preacher man was speaking behind me as soft music plaid. One by one, men and women, children and teenagers came to bade me a farewell. I did not recognize any of them, though they came in groups of families that did not resemble each other.

Two little kids of the same age were lifted by an older boy so they could kiss my cheek as well. One was chubby with blonde hair and brown eyes; the other was pencil thin with curly red hair and green eyes. They older boy had brown hair and blue eyes. A few items were placed inside of my coffin next to me and the lid was closed again.

I began to panic as I was lowered down into the ground. I kicked at my stiff limbs finally feeling the human flesh fall away from me. I beat at the top of the wood, making no sound. Dull thuds hit my coffin as the dirt was shoveled back into the hole. I punched and kicked with all my week might. I wrenched my jaw free of the hold and screamed. At this time, I didn't know I was dead. I thought that I was alive, paralyzed but still alive, and everyone was merely insane.

Finally I drifted away. My phantom limbs became week enough to where I could not move them. The dirt stopped falling, everything was still.

I could sense death all around me, some new and some just bones. There was no noise under here; it was just as silent as the dirt around me.

Time passed alarmingly unknown. My human flesh fell away from me, the rotting smell prudent enough to make me gag. Bugs began to find their way in and started to eat my skin. I tried to squish them but my hand would pass through them unharmed.

It wasn't until a lengthy time passed that a muffled voice reached me. It sounded sad and like they were weeping. I pushed up out of my body, my hands groping at the dirt. Hand over hand, step after step I clawed up through the earth with all of my strength. Finally I reached the surface. A hand appeared just under where I was. I grabbed it desperately and I was pulled up and out of the mud.

I landed on the cool, green grass panting.

"Come on you Anchor, get up." A hand grabbed my shoulders and I was pulled to my feet. "There you go." A boy younger than me was standing in front of me. He was wearing a light brown suit, ragged white gloves—his fingers sticking out of the tops—and a brown top hat. His suit had tails that hung to his knees. A gold chain connected from his vest looped into his pocket.

All over he looked wealthy and from an earlier time, but there were holes and ragged patches. He had brown hair as well that was longer like mine and piercing green eyes.

"Who are you?" My voice was dry and horse from the time of not having spoken.

"I am Christopher," he said. "Do you remember your name Anchor?"

"I'm…Edward."

"You don't sound too sure," he chuckled.

"Well excuse me, I just climbed out of a grave," I glared. He held up both of his hands, taking a step back.

"I didn't mean anything by it. Geez, I heard you Anchors could be snippy but you have a major chip on your shoulder. Most Anchors don't even know if they're a boy or a girl, let alone their name."

"Why do you keep calling me anchor?"

"Us Old Souls, call you new arrivals Anchors because your body is still going to wear you down like an anchor."

"Wear me down? How?" I became aware that Christopher had to look up at me slightly.

"Take a breathe Anch—Edward, do you feel your human body?" I did as he was told and became aware of a strange burrowing feeling in my skin. Alarmed, I lifted my shirt and saw that my skin was pale but intact. "That's the bugs. You'll stop feeling them once they eat away your body." I dropped my shirt and looked back at my tomb stone.

"There was someone here…."

"Yes. A woman. She was crying."

"Who was she? Where did she go?" I demanded, looking at him.

"Calm down Edward. I don't know who she is—your life…well it was. She was here a few months ago, a year maybe."

"What do you mean a year? I just heard her."

Christopher sighed, looking around the grave yard. "Come on, I'll tell you as we walk." I took one last glance at my undisturbed grave before walking with him. "You only think you just heard her. You see, us After Beings, loose all sense of time. An hour can be a month for the Fleshes. We pass through this….after life much quicker."

"Then…" I trailed, taking in the information. "How long was I…?"

"Dead for?" He finished and I cringed. "About…a year and a month maybe."

"A year?! But I just died."

"Or so you thought." I looked away annoyed and saw the other graves. "We have to wait until you are Climbing before we can help you out."

"Who's we?"

"The other After Beings."

"How many are there?"

"Depends," Christopher shrugged. "The amount changes every day. You could be here on second and gone the next."

"What do you mean? You're not helping me at all."

"Calm down," he reminded me. "Ever heard of 'unfinished businesses?"

"Yes," I said impatiently.

"I'm here, as you are too I suspect, because you have unfinished business."

"Then what is mine and where do I go after I'm done?"

"So many questions," he snickered, shaking his head. "I'll have the others explain. I'm new at this."

"You and me both," I muttered. He stepped up to a large headstone. An angel with her arms held wide, stood on a thick, cement block with a door. I stared up at the still angel. At her blank eyes and peaceful face. Christopher opened the door and turned to me.

"Come on Edward, the others are waiting." I looked down and he motioned for me to go inside. I hesitated thinking; I'm dead, what's the worst that could happen? And walked inside.

Inside was cold and dark but Christopher found his way easily. "Where are we going?"

"To Chamber. It's where we all sort of…live. A world of lost ghosts." We came to another door at the end of the cement hall and Christopher placed his hand on the gold handle. "Brace your self Edward."

He opened the door and motioned me forward. I stepped in and was startled. Everywhere was black as if we were under ground. But oddly, there were street lamps, roads, houses, shops and other ghosts. On some, it was easy to tell how they died, and on others it wasn't. They were all dressed in what they were wearing the day they died and speaking in the same language though there was a difference in nationalities.

"Edward." Christopher nodded to a pole that had a bell connected to it, a rope hung from it. "Ring it." I stepped over to it slowly, judging weather I should run back out of the door or stay. But seeing how I didn't know the deadly ways, I rang the bell. Everything became quiet.

And then there was a rush of noise and movement as everyone swarmed around me. I backed up from them, scared, and stared. They shouted over each other with smiles, asking me questions and introducing themselves. They pressed tighter together, pushing me back up against the wall. Hands grabbed at me, pulling me closer as I fought them.

"That's enough." A clear voice rang out over the others and they flinched slightly before moving away.

"This otta be good," Christopher whispered excitedly. A walk way was made between the After Beings and a girl stood in the center. She was beautiful with black hair and black eyes. Her skin was a rich golden brown. She was clearly Egyptian with a golden head dress that hung over her hair and tear dropped over her forehead. She was wearing a red and blue necklace that hung over the top of her chest, golden chains hung thickly over her chest, revealing her flat stomach.

The same red and blue plated jewelry hung around her hips, with the gold chains that hung above her knees. A snake bracelet wrapped around her upper arm and her ankle. She was wearing flat sandals that wrapped around her legs. Her eyes were lined in black, mimicking the natural lines of a cheetah. A black cat sat at her feet, wearing a gold collar with torques sand betel in the center.

She looked about my age, which I guess would be seventeen, maybe younger. She was thin in the extreme but she obviously held herself with power over the others. "Hello," she spoke. "I am Anak-su Namu. Who are you?"

"I'm um, Edward."

"Welcome to Chamber," she did a slight bow and the eyes of the others widened in shock.

"Thank you," I said lamely, not knowing what to do. She straightened and looked at me with her obsidian eyes.

"Follow me Edward; there is much that you must learn." I followed Anak-su Namu through the town; her chains swayed and made a soft clicking sound. "Are you surprised?"

"About dying? Not so much." Heavy sarcasm.

"You must learn to leave the worldly attitudes behind Edward."

"Sorry," I sighed.

"It's fine. You are an Anchor; things will be hard for you." I looked around the large town with an eerie, sinking feeling in my stomach. Or what would have been my stomach.

This Anak-su Namu ghost, lead me through the town, showing me the lay out. Everywhere, ghosts turned and smiled at me, some even congratulated me. Next, Anak-su Namu took me into a large room made of blue glass inside of a gazebo.

"What is this?" I asked.

"My own, personal meditating room," she answered, smelling the smoke of incense as it coiled in the air. "You need to learn our rules here." She sat on the indigo cushioned floor and waved a hand for me to sit as well.

"Are there a lot?" I guessed. She nodded and took a deep breath.

"Why don't we start with your questions?"

"Alright," I nodded, thinking. "Why can't I remember my life?"

"You will remember when you are ready to remember." She said simply. "We believe that the brain blocks the memories because of pain, of something that had happened in the Living. Your soul chooses not to retain that pain." I took in the information with a hint of a grudge.

"Will I ever remember?" She shrugged, her chains clinking.

"When you're ready."

"Can I see my family? Maybe to help remember?"

"I highly advice you not to," she said quickly, her heavily lined eyes wide. "If you see them, it could bring severe pain and longing to you that would be worse than anything you could imagine."

"I think I could handle it."

"No Edward," Anak-su Namu shook her head. "Avoid them like the plague."

"But I'm dead. And as far as I know, ghosts don't need to worry about sicknesses." She sighed heavily and closed her eyes.

"Just don't. And you'll thank me."

"Can I speak to them?"

"The Living is incapable of communicating with the dead," she said a matter of factly.

"Well…can I posses someone then?" I half joked.

"NO!" She shouted, her eyes flying open. "No, no, no! We have many Laws here Edward. And that is the worst thing to do. If you ever were to do that, the Council would hunt you down and throw you into the deepest, darkest, and hottest later of hell!"

"They can do that?"

"Yes! They can and they will if they ever find out." Her hands began to shake and she put them in her lap.

"And the Council is…"

"A group of…." She shook her head. "I don't know really. Ghouls are the best thing to name them. They're hideous and grotesque. They are said to be the Devil's right hand men."

"And where is God in any of this?" I felt a bit heated but I tried to stay calm.

"He is here," she nodded. "He is everywhere. God will appear to you when you are ready. He's in this room right now, saying that He is here and that He loves you, wondering why you choose not to hear Him."

"If He loves me so much, then why am I not in Heaven?"

"That is not His choice," Anak-su Namu frowned. "Whatever you did in _you_ life judges where you end up."

"Was I not saved then?" I asked, feeling tired.

"I do not know. Perhaps you were, but you are not ready yet for Heaven."

"So it's my entire fault then?" I nearly hissed. "Is this Hell then?"

"No, no," she smirked. "You can not imagine hell."

"But if I posses someone I will be in hell correct?"

"Correct," she tried to look calm but I could see the worry in her face. "Come, it is late and an Anchor needs their sleep. I will have your Scavenger show you to your new house."

"I have my own house?" I murmured, pleased and slightly humored.

"Of course," she smiled, rising smoothly. "You have to have your own privacy for eternity."

Anak-su Namu took me back out into the street where I noticed Christopher leaning against a light pole, picking at his sleeve.

"Christopher," she called. He looked up and came over. "Take Edward to his new home by the river."

Christopher nodded and with one last encouraging pat on the shoulder, Anak-su Namu left.

"Ready?" Christopher asked and I nodded. "Don't look so upset, you'll get used to things quickly."

"Do you remember your life?" I asked abruptly.

A sad look mustered Christopher's face as he paused for a long minute.

"No." He said finally. We were quite as we walked the dark streets, the other ghosts turned to smile at me. We stopped at the bottom of stone steps that led up to a one story house. Figured, I thought. Being dead meant that I wouldn't need sleep so the house turned out to be small.

There was no need for bathroom, bedroom or kitchen so it was just a living room of sort. "You're tired." Christopher announced and he was right. I could feel my eyes drooping closed, my body needing sleep.

"But…" I trailed, confused.

"You remember sleep so you want it. Soon you'll forget about it and stay awake." I nodded and yawned. "I'll come by tomorrow so Anak-su Namu can assign you a job."

"Is she like the mayor?" I assumed, walking around the house.

"Pretty much," he shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. "She's the only order around here, except for the Council."

"Have you ever seen the Council?"

"Nope. Get some sleep Anchor, I'll be back tomorrow."

"Okay, hey…thanks."

"For what?" He cocked his head.

I shrugged. "Helping me out."

"Don't thank me just yet," his voice held centuries of grudges. "Goodnight." He left quickly, shutting the door behind him. I found a small couch just big enough for me to lie on and laid down on it.

My eyes blurred with phantom tears as I thought about what my life had become….or after life. My skin prickled all over, digging, hollowing feelings spread over my skin from the bugs that were eating away the last of my human body somewhere in the ground.

I turned over on my side, uneasily and closed my eyes.

"Who was I?" I whispered out loud. "Who am I?" And then a light filled my closed eyes, numbing my brain. I suddenly saw a park; the leaves fell slowly like molasses and then would speed up only to slow again, like someone was hitting the fast forward and slow button on a remote. I heard a laugh and saw a girl spinning in the falling leaves.

Her hair was short, honey blonde with brown streaks. She was wearing a summer dress that circled her legs as she twirled. Her slim arms were outstretched, the wind falling between her fingers. That was when I felt it.

It was a deep, aching feeling that filled me completely, nearly crippling me. It felt as if a hole had been ripped through my chest that still throbbed. I looked back up to the girl to see that she had stopped spinning, but had her eyes closed and her face tilted up to the sun. The warm light shinned off her beautiful, happy face. The sight burned through me, it felt as if I would collapse from the empty hole in my chest.

But then she was gone. I opened my eyes with a gasp to see the dark window above me, the streets of Chamber glaring at me. I rolled over onto my back, wet tears dampening my face.

Two.

I knew that Christopher knew something was wrong when he came to wake me the next morning. I had hardly slept that night, trying to dredge up the flash back as hard as I could. But I never could. I saw her face in my mind, her laugh rang through my ears, but every time I remembered her, the pain would return and I was pant from the shock.

I walked silently beside Christopher down the midnight black roads to a river behind the line of houses. Trees sprouted on either side of the river bank, not swaying in the wind.

"How can all this be here?" I asked, looking down at the river.

"What do you mean?" Christopher asked from his spot under one of the trees.

"Chamber, the trees, this river, the houses? How can it all be here?"

"We don't really know," he admitted. "But we don't question what is given to us." I kept my mouth shut and kicked a rock into the water, sending ripples over my reflection. "Can I tell you something?"

"What?" I looked to see that he was watching the ground, his hands fumbling with his gloves.

"I don't like it."

"Like what?"

"_This,_ all of it. Something doesn't seem right."

"Like how no one will give you straight answers?" I summarized.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Everyone speaks of the Council, but _I've_ never seen them and I've been here over a hundred and ten years." I was taken back by the knowledge.

"How did you die Christopher?" I asked.

"I was shot," he said easily. "Robbing a rich man's house…I think." His hand automatically went to his chest, where he traced the bullet hole I couldn't see.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "And you?"

"….I think…I upset someone. I was shot as well." It was quite again. I went over to him and sat in the grass near his feet, thinking about everything. "Can we see them? The Living I mean?"

"Sure," he said, still disorientated from our conversation. "But why would you want to see what you're missing out on?"

"I want to remember," I said.

"But you're not from here."

"What do you mean?" I frowned.

"When I came to help you when you were Climbing, I could just tell. Like, you don't _smell_ like the city. This kid, Roddi was from here and he smelt just like the city. But some kept transferred different places to be buried. You smell different."

"So you're telling me that nothing out there will help me remember?" I nearly shouted.

"No, just not _this_ city."

"Show it to me anyways." Christopher stood and brushed dirt off his clothes.

"Then come on."

We went back to the pole with the bell on it; the streets were quieter, as if everyone was asleep. Christopher opened the door and we walked back through the tomb stone.

I winced at the dread filled grave yard before me. We left it quickly but hesitated at the gate.

"I've never been past the gate," Christopher said.

"Me neither," I said. I reached over for the lock but my hand passed through it. "Oh yeah," I chuckled nervously. We stepped through the gate and into the world.

I walked blindly across the street, not thinking.

"Edward!" Christopher called out. I turned to face him but instead saw metal grill of a cement truck. I gasped just as the car would have hit me if I were alive. I moved past the hot engine, saw the driver toss a hamburger wrapper down on the floor and into the big, turning vat of thick, sludgy cement. Then I was out of the truck. Christopher grabbed me and pulled me to the other side of the road.

"What were you thinking?!" He shouted. "If you could feel pain, I'd slap you." I gaffed which made Christopher laugh. I laughed at his laugh which he laughed at too. Soon we were both cracking up on the side of the road. It felt good to laugh for once, but when we were done, sadness was left in its place.

We walked through town, seeing TV sets being clicked off for the night. I was walking across the lawn of a house when I heard a little boy's voice. I went up to the window but could not see through it.

"What?" Christopher whispered, as if he would wake the Living. I shushed him and walked through the wall.

I was in a little boy's room. Plastic airplane models hung from the ceiling, jets were painted on the walls and a little race car track rug was laid out under little toy cars. I looked and saw a boy kneeling on the side of his bed, his elbows propped up on his bed, his palms together in prayer. He was whispering something but soon his voice grew louder as he switched prayers.

"As I lay me down to sleep," he said in his high voice. "I pray the Lord my soul to keep. And if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take." I shivered as the last of the eerie prayer left the room and he climbed into bed. I looked down at his cute, chubby face, his rosy cheeks. His hair was a wispy blonde and his thick eye lashes curled upwards. I reached out a hand to touch his forehead but Christopher grabbed me.

"What?" I said.

"Don't. Little kids can see us."

"But Anak-su Namu—"

"She didn't tell you about children because she didn't want to frighten you."

"But he can see me?!" I must have spoken too loud, because the little boy's eyes opened. I froze and so did Christopher.

"Hi…" the boy said, sitting up. "Are you supposed to be in my room?"

"You…you can see us?" I beamed. He nodded and laughed.

"You're silly. How come you're glowing?"

"We are?" I looked down but didn't see any glow.

"Brandon?" A women's voice came from the other side of the door. I took a step back. The door opened and a women with black hair walked in. "Brandon, who are you talking to?" She sat on the edge of his bed, placing her hand on his.

"Them," he pointed straight at me. The memory of my heart hammered my ribs as I held my breath. The mother's eyes looked through us to the dark room and night light.

"There's no one there baby," she said, running her fingers through his hair. "Go to sleep."

"But they _are_ there," he fought. Christopher grabbed my arm and pulled me through the wall.

"That is why we don't leave Chamber!" He shouted.

"Did you see that?" I beamed, grabbing him back. "He saw us!"

"Of course he saw us," he pushed me back. "He's a child, they have the Sight!"

"I'm going back in." I moved away from him but Christopher grabbed me.

"We need to go back to Chamber, Edward," he fought.

"No, I need to be seen."

But Christopher pulled me back. "No, we're leaving." I pushed him hard but didn't run for the room. Christopher glared at me and I glared back. But my anger subsided and I saw what he was afraid of.

"Fine." I set my jaw.

"Thank you," he scowled.

We walked back to the cemetery slowly, thinking about what had just happened. I didn't care what Christopher thought, I had been seen my Living eyes. Indefinitely


End file.
